


00Q Prompts from Tumblr

by Maliex



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Slash, Tumblr, fic prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:39:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maliex/pseuds/Maliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of prompts: Q gives James a key to his apartment, Quartermaster Bond and Agent Q, young Bond and older Q, tattooed Q, scared Q tries to break up with James, and a proposal in the worst place possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Key

**Author's Note:**

> Going to be posting them in separate chapters, with rough summaries.

“Here.” Q shoves the key at James without looking, trying to focus on his laptop. He feels completely ridiculous. And he can't help looking at James to see how he's taking it. Dammit.

James picks up the key, frowning at it as he turns it this way and that. “And what is this for?”

Q takes a deep breath. “My apartment.”

James' gaze flicks up, fixes on Q, and Q struggles with the desire to take it back. This is a mistake, this is a huge mistake. “Well, I thought you might be tired of breaking in. Or stalking me. So now you can let yourself in, with the satisfaction that you actually have my permission to be there. I apologise if that actually takes the fun out of it.”

James still isn't saying anything. Or even moving. Oh dear. Oh dear. This actually was a mistake. Q swallows, looks down. “I...if you don't want-”

He's cut off when James leans over, startled at the movement, but then relaxes when James presses in for a kiss. Before he can start to forget about his surroundings (a terribly bad habit, but one he can't seem to break with James) he moves his laptop to the table. Aware of the movement, James hums his approval into Q's mouth, scooping him up to pull him into his lap.

After a few intense minutes, Q pulls back for breath. James smirks up at him, looking far too satisfied and pleased. “So,” Q says, “I take it you're actually pleased?”

James brings his hand round in between them and inspects the key. “The key itself isn't terribly exciting. The idea of being welcome in your home, however, is quite the thrilling concept.”

Q gives James a narrow look. “'Thrilling concept'? Really, James.”

James just smiles, and pulls him in for another kiss. Then whispers against his mouth. “Thank you, Q.”

Q smiles. “You're most welcome.”


	2. Quartermaster Bond and Agent Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond as Quartermaster and Q as the secret agent.

Bond pushed his glasses up his nose, and picked up the minuscule screwdriver. The agents went through his guns far too swiftly for his liking. He could scarcely keep up. 

He paused at the sound of the door to his workshop opening, but only for a moment before he carried on. Footsteps came towards his desk, and he didn't bother looking up when a badly scratched and slightly bent Walther was deposited on a clear spot. 

“Really, Q,” he said idly. “I appreciate that you've actually managed to bring it back, and in what is essentially one piece, but I have to wonder how exactly they become so damaged.”

He looks up to see the slender agent lean against his desk. Q obviously hasn't been to medical yet, if the state of his cardigan and the bloody scrape on his cheek is anything to go by. Bond sighs. Q merely smiles at him. 

“Well, I'm glad to see you too, Quartermaster Bond. Considering what I've been through, a little more warmth would be appreciated. No welcome home for your wayward agent?”

Bond finishes the last screw and puts the tools down, pushing back from the desk. He turns the chair to face Q. “I'd be more welcoming if you hadn't vanished off the comms halfway through the mission.”

Q shrugs. The corner of one of his glasses' lenses is cracked. He nonchalantly steps forward, and then drops into Bond's lap, legs to either side and hands going to Bond's shoulders. “You missed the sound of my voice, then?”

Bond slips his hands around Q's waist, presses in for a kiss. Q's mouth tastes of blood.


	3. Older Q with Younger Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An older Q with a younger James Bond.

Q shouldn't be doing this. He's been here years, long enough to see many agents come and go. He knows all too well how long they're expected to live. He's seen enough of them die. So he knows better. 

He really, really, shouldn't be doing this. But even knowing that, he can't help himself. Not when James Bond has him pressed against a wall in a deserted room, is determined working his way down over Q's stomach and lower.

“James,” he gasps.

James looks up, all bright blue eyes, but Q can see the predator lurking behind them. James has not been a double-oh two months yet, but he's already a hunter, one of MI6's deadly assassins. But he's young yet, and eager to please Q at least.

Q's head thunks back against the wall as James swallows him down, buries his hand in short blond hair. He shouldn't do this, but it's far too late.


	4. Tattooed Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q has tattoos representing places he's been, people he's met, things he's done. Bond sees them, and naturally, is curious.

“Well well well, what's this?”

Q yelps, becoming hopelessly ensnared in his t-shirt. James Bond's laughter echoes in his ears as he struggles out of it, and he clutches it to his chest, glaring at the offending agent. “Bond! Hasn't anyone ever told you to know before you enter someone's private quarters?”

Bond chuckles in amusement, eyeing Q's t-shirt. “My apologies. But Q, what is that?”

Q flinches back when Bond extends a hand, but then holds still to see what he's doing. Bond's fingers brush against his side, and he twists away, scowling. “Must you always touch?” he asks indignantly.

Bond sighs. “Q.”

Q glares. “It's called a tattoo, Bond. While I know you don't have any, I thought you might at least be familiar with the concept.”

Bond gives him a cool look, and then tilts his head. “May I see?”

It's polite, but Q's uncertain. But then again. “Fine,” he says. “Look but don't touch. If you can manage such a simple task.”

He turns. No harm in Bond looking. Or so he tells himself.

He jerks when fingertips brush his back. “Dammit Bond, so help me I will-”

“What does it mean?”

Q's taken aback. “What?”

“You're not one to get this done for no reason. What do they mean?”

Q considers. Bond's right, they do have meaning, but there are some things he's not willing to share. At least, not yet. But...

“There's a number ten, on my left, low down. I'm not so foolish as to put my designation in plain sight, but for those who know me, it's close enough.”

He doesn't flinch this time. Bond traces this ten with one finger, and it sends goosebumps running along Q's arms. He doesn't bother trying to tell Bond off this time.

“That ridiculous scrabble mug. Of course. And the bulldog in the zero?” Bond asks.

Q's grip on his t-shirt tightens. “In memory of M. The previous one,” he says softly.

The finger on his back hesitates, and then carries on trailing round and round the zero.

“What about this?”

Q swallows, knowing exactly what Bond's referring to. Of course he would ask about it. He picked with Bond specifically in mind, so it only makes sense.

“A tattered union jack with bullet holes. I'd say just Britain, but I get the sense not. Well?”

Q sighs. “You, Bond. It means you.”

Bond's fingers freeze over the tattoo. Q waits for a response. 

“Why?”

Q takes a deep breath. “Because everything you stand for is Britain. Queen and Country. Even if you don't like it over much. Tatty, because you break almost everything I ever give you, or at least damage it. And because you're scarred yourself. And not just on the surface.”

He waits. And waits. Surely Bond will have something to say.

He does flinch when lips brush over his shoulder. “Bond, what-?”

“I'm honoured. And flattered. Not many people would go so far as to carve me into their skin.”

Q shudders as Bond's fingers dip lower to tease at his waistband. “You think a deal too much of yourself. It's not about you.”

“Of course not,” Bond murmurs into the hollow behind his ear. “It's your life, here across your back, I'd imagine. But I'm flattered to have made such an impact.”

Q has to close his eyes, remember to breath. “I'm sure you're very appreciative.”

“Mm. Let me show you how much so.”

Ah. Damn.


	5. Broken Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q has been toyed with by guys before. They'd take him out, have their fun with him, then dump him. So far, James has stayed. But Q's tired of waiting for the end of the games.

“James, this has to stop.”

James freezes on the sofa, gazing at Q over the top of his book. “I'm sorry? What has?”

Q sighs, trying to speak round the tight feeling in his chest. “This. You. And...me.”

The book lowers, and James' expression shutters closed. “You. And I. Have to stop.”

Q nods. He's tired of waiting for James to declare this over, to turn around and laugh at him. It's wearing him ragged. So he's going to end things now. Spare himself the pain.

So why does it hurt?

James considers him, and must see something, as he puts the book down on the sofa, rises to his feet, walks over to where Q hovers in the doorway. “Why?”

Q wants to withdraw, wants to just yell at James to get out, hide away in his room, but he owes James an explanation at least. He thinks.

“I'm tired,” he says softly. “You...you've had your fun. You got what you came for. I don't know why you've stayed this long. But it's enough. It's time to stop the games.”

“Games,” repeats James quietly.

Anger rises to push aside the pain. “Yes, James. The games. The games that you and all god damned good looking bastards like you enjoy playing with people like me. I've had them played on me before, and no doubt will have them played again, but it's gone on long enough. I'm tired of waiting for you to end it, so I'm doing it. Here. The end.” The tightness in his chest is back, worse than ever, and it hurts. His eyes sting, and it's hard to breathe. Because he had hoped. He had wanted. He had wanted this to be something. To not be the game. But it was.

He's suddenly yanked forward and off balance, and he yelps. But then he's enfolded in warm, strong arms.

“You're an idiot,” James murmurs. “Honestly, Q. This isn't a game. I'm here. I'm here to stay. With you.”

Q is frozen. He can hear the thundering of his own heart, and it's drowning out his own thoughts. 

James is holding him tight. And he's not letting go.

He's staying.

Q closes his eyes, wraps his own arms about James. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I'm sorry. I was afraid. I've been so afraid that you...that...”

James hushes him, holding him tighter, rubbing his hands down Q's back. “It's all right. It's all right, Q. I'm sorry you've been afraid. I'm sorry I didn't see it, and let you know otherwise sooner.   
But now you know. I'm here, I'm yours, and I'm not going anywhere.”

Q nods against James' shoulder, and tucks his head into the crook of James' neck. He knows now.


	6. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond proposes to Q in the worst possible place/time.

Q sighs as Bond works at the ropes tying them together. He can feel the blood dripping from Bond, and knows he's been cut up pretty badly. Their torturers were not messing around. Q is not unscathed himself. But now they've been left alone, and Bond's getting them out. Q hasn't had any first hand experience with this, so he'll let Bond take care of this.

“Q.”

“Bond?”

“I've been thinking.”

Q has to actively prevent himself from making a sarcastic comment about that. Or saying anything about Bond striking up conversation now. Bond is not exactly a normal person. Or even a normal agent. “Oh yes. About what?”

“About us.”

Oh dear. The ropes jerk around his hands, and then fall loose. Q flexes his fingers and wrists. 

“Anything specific about us?” he asks, trying not to let his nerves show.

There's a grunt from Bond, and Q waits patiently. He knows better than to hurry Bond in a situation like this.

There's a final grunt, and he can hear Bond moving around. And then sees him. Bond gives him a lopsided grin past the blood, and Q smiles back pleasantly.

“In a manner of speaking.” Bond leans forward and Q holds still as Bond unties him. He's about to stand when Bond's hand on his shoulder stops him. He instantly holds still, waiting for instruction. So he's a little surprised when Bond slowly goes down on one knee. What...?

“Q. Will you marry me?”

Q blinks. “Pardon?” He can't have heard that correctly.

“Marry me. I should think it a simple enough request.”

Q's gaze flicks around the room. Is this a code or something? He gives Bond a searching look.

Bond sighs. “Q. I'm asking. I'm really, genuinely asking. Marry me. Be mine for always.”

It's beginning to sink in. James Bond is asking him to marry him. “Now?” he asks. “You're doing this now?”

Bond shrugs, still half smiling. “I'd been planning it for a while. They unfortunately took the ring. Do I go get it back from them?”

Q hears the question being asked under that. And realises he hasn't given Bond...given James, an answer.

Q licks his lips. “All right.”  
James' eyebrows lift. “Pardon?”

“Yes James. I will marry you.”

James blinks. And then smiles. Properly this time, not the somewhat terrifying smile of earlier. He moves forward to press a kiss to Q's mouth, and then offers him a hand up. “I should go and get that ring then.”

“You should,” agrees Q.


End file.
